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[sub]Late Morning///Floor 1[/sub]
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Well, this chain of events was hardly surprising for Varanense now. Casually pulling back the string of his oversized crossbow, he watched as the three warriors cut through the kobolds almost immediately, reducing numbers by half within seconds of the fight starting. Nice to see everyone was still energetic. There was a click as the bowstring locked in place, and Varanense hummed a cheery tune as he strolled into the room, largely ignored by basically every adventurer and monster. Pressing his back against the closet pillar, the archer eyed the situation briefly. One on Castor, one on Oben, two on Kori. Normally, he wouldn't have even bothered approaching while the fight still raged, so certain their victory was.

But then again, things lined up oh-so well.

The air in the dungeon was always stagnant. The distances he was working with may as well be considered close-range. Both targets were distracted and locked in place. It was, as his father used to say, free real estate. Varanense calmed his heart. Counted the beats. Raised his crossbow. Sighted it properly. Wondered if Dahlia prepared lunch for them. Prayed that Floor 2 was just as easy as this.

Fired.

It was not [i]like[/i] a ballista bolt. It [i]was[/i] a ballista bolt, thrumming through the air like a harpist's fingers through the strings. With hardly a sound, it shot through the body of the first kobold before flying towards the next, the sheer force of each bolt penetrating unarmored flesh with ease. If all went well, it would be two for one. If all went perfectly, the bolt would still be intact at the end of this. If all went poorly, it'd be one for one. If it went to hell, Varanense can just use this as an excuse not to contribute in the next fight.

Really, this shitty archer was alright with any and all results.